Taking Flight

The girl nodded, and the three of them trudged onward.

A few minutes later Kelder rapped at the door of an inn; above his head a signboard creaked in the warm breeze that blew from the east. Kelder hadn’t been able to make out the picture on the sign, but Irith assured him this was the right place.

Dinner was cold and greasy, and the only room left was a garret where Kelder was unable to stand upright without hitting his head on the tie-beams.

The innkeeper was apologetic. “We weren’t expecting anyone so late,” he said.

“At least they weren’t completely full,” Asha said sleepily, before toppling onto the down pillow the innkeeper had found to serve as her mattress.

That left Irith and Kelder sitting on the two straw ticks. Irith was massaging her legs; Kelder looked at her curiously.

“Horses use their leg-muscles differently,” she explained, glaring at him. “I’m not used to walking so far in horse shape.”

“Oh,” he said.

After a moment of awkward silence, he added, “Thank you very much for carrying Asha.”

Irith shrugged. “It wasn’t anything much,” she said, rubbing her shins.

After another moment, Kelder asked, “Can you turn into anything?”

Irith sat up and looked at him. “What?” she asked.

“I mean, well, you turned into a horse, and I didn’t know you could do that. I mean, I knew you could grow wings, and you said you were a shapeshifter — can you turn into anything you want?”

“You mean, could I turn into a dragon and burn you to a crisp?” Irith asked, smiling at him in a way he didn’t like at all.

He nodded.

“No,” she said, turning her attention back to her legs. “I have seven shapes, and that’s all, and a dragon isn’t one of them.”

“Oh.” That was a relief — if it was true. “So you can’t disguise yourself as someone else?”

“No. Why would I want to?”

“I don’t know; I was just curious.” He was not about to admit that he had suspected her of being an ancient crone.

“Well, I can’t.”

“Seven shapes?”

She made a noise he took for agreement.

“Well, a horse is one,” Kelder said.

“And this is another,” she replied.

He considered, and asked, “Wings — is that three?”

She nodded.

“Uh... what are the other four?”

“None of your business, that’s what they are,” she said, straightening up and then lying back. “Go to sleep.”

“But...” As her future husband, he felt that they certainly were his business, but he didn’t want to tell Irith about his plans for her, her prophesied role.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Kelder. I’m too tired for this.” She curled up on her bedding and closed her eyes.

There was another matter he had wanted to discuss with her, as well, and now he wished he had brought it up first. Mentioning it now seemed impolitic.

It would have to come up eventually, but he was too tired to worry about it; he would leave it until morning.

It would need to be discussed then, though.

The matter was money; he didn’t have any more, beyond a few copper bits. He had no way of paying the bill at the inn if it was anything like the last few.

Fortunately, given the accommodations, it would probably be somewhat less.

Life was becoming very complicated, even with the prophecy to guide him. Irith was clearly the one he was destined to wed, and she was as beautiful and cheerful as he could wish, but marrying a shapeshifter with a secret past was not altogether a reassuring prospect. Asha clearly provided him with someone lost and forlorn to champion, and freeing her brother’s soul was obviously the way to be honored by the dead, but catching up to the caravan and getting Abden’s head from it might not be all that simple.

Well, Zindre had never said that his life would be easy.

And could he refuse his promised future if he wanted to? If it was all too much for him, could he just give up and go home?

Well, who was going to stop him?

And for that matter, maybe it was all coincidence after all; maybe Zindre was a fraud, in which case he was fooling himself, and going home would be the only sensible thing to do.

With a sigh, he leaned over and blew out the candle, then stretched out on his own ticking.

He thought he would be awake, thinking about money, and about Zindre’s predictions, and about Irith, for hours.

He was wrong; within three minutes he was sound asleep.

Chapter Eleven

“That’s all you’ve got?” the innkeeper demanded.

Kelder nodded silently. Behind him, Irith muttered, “Oh, gods, how utterly embarrassing! Kelder, I can’t believe you’re doing this — and in the Flying Carpet!”

Asha had the good grace to keep her mouth shut, for which Kelder was grateful.

The innkeeper glared at the coins as if they were a direct personal affront.

“Oh, come on,” Kelder said. “It’s only three bits short, and I swear, it’s all we’ve got.”

The proprietor let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Oh, all right,” he said, “but I really shouldn’t. Now, go on and get out of here, and don’t you ever tell a soul I was so soft-hearted and stupid!”

“Thank you,” Kelder said, with a bow. “May all the gods bless and guard you, sir!” Greatly relieved, he turned and hurried for the door, before the man could change his mind.

When they were safely out of the inn and on the streets of Sinodita, Kelder turned left. Irith corrected him, grabbing his arm and turning him around.

“That’s west,” she said. “We’re going east.”

Kelder stood where he was and shook his head. “No, we aren’t,” he said. “Or at least, I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Asha asked, looking up at him.

“No,” he said. “I’m going home, to Shulara.”

Irith put her hands on her hips and snorted. A lock of hair fell across her face; she blew it out of her way, and glared at Kelder.

“What about me?” Asha asked timidly. “What about Abden?”

Kelder looked down at her. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’m tired, and I don’t have any more money, and I can’t see what we can do, anyway. If we caught up to the caravan, what would we do? Why would they help us? And how long will it be before we catch them, anyway? Where will we eat and sleep?”

“I don’t know,” Asha whispered.

“Neither do I,” Kelder said. “And that’s why I’m going home. I can sleep on the grass by the roadside, and pick a little food from the fields, and that should last me long enough to get home to my family — if I turn back now.” That probably meant giving up on Zindre’s prophecy, but just now, tired even after a night’s sleep and humiliated by his experience with the innkeeper, Kelder didn’t care.